This perspective represented something Harry had never previously considered, and Henry's words had genuinely opened new avenues of understanding for him.
The following evening, Harry made his way to Hagrid's hut alone.
He hadn't invited Ron and Hermione, not from unwillingness, but because the matter felt private. He wanted to seek answers himself before discussing it further with his friends.
Hagrid's hut appeared particularly inviting in the twilight, smoke curling from the chimney and warm orange light emanating from the windows.
Fang was stationed at the door, and upon spotting Harry, the enormous boarhound bounded forward with unrestrained excitement, licking his face enthusiastically before Harry could raise any defense.
"Hey, Fang, that's enough," Harry laughed, rubbing the dog's great head before approaching the door and knocking firmly.
"Come in!" Hagrid's voice called from within.
Harry pushed the door open and warmth rushed out to greet him. The fireplace burned brightly, flames casting dancing shadows across the walls, while a massive copper kettle hung above it, hissing and steaming softly.
Hagrid sat at the enormous table, carefully bandaging an injured hedgehog. Upon seeing Harry, he broke into a broad, welcoming smile.
"Harry! Perfect timing!" Hagrid greeted him warmly. "The tea's just finished brewing, and the rock cakes came straight out of the oven, they're really not too hard this time, I promise!"
Harry smiled and settled into a chair at the table. Hagrid poured him a generous cup of strong tea and slid a plate of rock cakes toward him.
"Where are Ron and Hermione?" Hagrid asked conversationally.
"They're occupied," Harry replied, selecting a cake and taking a cautious bite.
It remained just as hard as ever. He genuinely couldn't fathom how Hagrid managed to eat them with any enjoyment.
"Hagrid," Harry set the cake down carefully, his hesitation evident, "I wanted to ask you something."
"What is it?" Hagrid set the hedgehog aside and turned his full attention toward Harry, his expression becoming serious and attentive.
"About Professor Snape," Harry said carefully. "Why... why does he seem to dislike me so intensely?"
Hagrid's smile froze. He fell silent for a long moment, his thick fingers unconsciously tracing the rim of his teacup as though gathering his thoughts.
"What made you think to ask this now?" he inquired.
Harry lowered his gaze to the tea leaves drifting in his cup, his eyes losing focus momentarily. "He always looks at me a certain way, like I'm something he finds deeply offensive. I don't understand what I've done to earn such disdain from him."
Hagrid released a lengthy sigh and set his teacup down with deliberate care. "You didn't do anything wrong, Harry. This isn't your fault at all."
"Then what is it?" Harry pressed.
Hagrid fell silent again, clearly attempting to frame his response with care.
After a prolonged pause, he finally spoke. "Professor Snape's history with your parents is... quite complicated. He was a classmate of theirs, they were all at Hogwarts at the same time."
Harry's head snapped up. "They knew each other?"
"Yes," Hagrid confirmed with a nod. "Same year. Your father was in Gryffindor, and Snape was in Slytherin."
Harry frowned. "Then they couldn't have been friends, right?"
Hagrid hesitated, shaking his head and then nodding. "Yes and no."
Harry scratched his head in confusion. "Which is it? You're making it more confusing..."
"It's difficult to explain simply," Hagrid said, his large beard twitching slightly. "They just didn't get along. Your father sometimes caused trouble for Snape, and Snape back then... wasn't particularly easy to like either. He was drawn to studying dark magic and had a gloomy, withdrawn nature about him."
Harry's expression grew contemplative, recalling Henry's earlier words, that hatred and love both require reasons, and neither arises without cause.
"But," Harry hesitated, "that conflict was between the two of them. What does it have to do with me? I'm not my father."
Hagrid studied him with a gaze of profound complexity, clearly struggling to contain something he wanted very much to express freely.
"Harry, some people... aren't entirely rational about these things," he said slowly. "When they see you, they're reminded of the past, the good and bad, the happy and painful. When Snape sees you, he's transported back to his conflicts with your father. Even though none of it has anything to do with you personally, you remind him of all of it."
He paused, his tone heavy with unspoken emotion. "And you look so remarkably like your father, the same hair, the same face, even your smile is identical. You're equally talented at Quidditch as well..."
Harry sat very still, genuinely unprepared for this revelation.
"What about my mother?" he asked quietly. "Did Snape know her?"
Hagrid's expression shifted, a subtle change, but Harry caught it clearly.
"Yes," Hagrid said carefully. "Your mother, Lily, was a good person, genuinely kind to everyone. Even when Professor Snape was most deeply involved with the Dark Arts, she remained his friend."
Harry's eyes widened. "My mother and Snape were friends?"
"They used to be," Hagrid said vaguely. "They were very close when they first arrived at Hogwarts together. But then... a great deal happened, and they gradually grew apart."
He looked at Harry with an expression that suggested a deliberate change of subject. "Harry, all of that was a long time ago. What matters now is that you focus on your studies and live well. Don't burden yourself by dwelling on the past."
Harry lowered his head, remaining silent for a long stretch before speaking slowly. "Hagrid, is Snape a bad person?"
Hagrid smiled gently. "I honestly don't know, Harry. What I do know is that Dumbledore trusts him, and Dumbledore rarely misjudges people. And he was your mother's closest friend once. I can tell you with certainty that no one in this school would ever harm you, not Snape, however much bad feeling may exist between you."
By the time Harry departed Hagrid's hut, complete darkness had settled over the grounds.
Walking back toward the castle, Harry's mind churned with conflicting information. Snape and his father had been adversaries, yet Snape and his mother had once been genuine friends.
Harry's resemblance to his father meant that every time Snape looked at him, old wounds resurfaced. Snape had harbored affection for Harry's mother, and Hagrid had essentially guaranteed that this fact alone would prevent Snape from ever truly harming him.
Yet rather than bringing clarity, Hagrid's revelations had only deepened the confusion. Why such contradictions in a single person? What manner of man was Snape truly? How could he—
"Harry?"
A voice called from just ahead.
Harry looked up and found Henry standing at the castle gate, a book held in one hand.
"Your Highness," Harry said, walking toward him.
Henry glanced in the direction Harry had come from and asked with a knowing smile, "You visited Hagrid?"
Harry nodded, his expression clearly troubled.
"Have you found your answers?" Henry continued.
"I'm more confused than before," Harry admitted.
Henry nodded with quiet understanding. "Then give yourself time. These things cannot be resolved by rushing."
Harry looked up at him earnestly. "Your Highness, how do you manage to see things so clearly?"
"I was compelled to develop that clarity early," Henry said, his gaze drifting toward the dark horizon. "In the royal family, every word spoken carries a layer of meaning beneath it. If you fail to perceive that layer, you pay the price."
He paused before turning his gaze back to Harry. "But you're different from me. You have friends, people who genuinely care for you and whom you can trust. You don't need to carry everything alone."
Harry smiled with genuine warmth. "Thank you, Your Highness."
Henry gave a brief nod and glanced toward the lit windows of the Great Hall. "Go inside. Dinner will begin shortly."
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